


Always Were

by likealocket



Category: Firefly
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s01e11 Trash, F/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-18
Updated: 2006-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-02 18:29:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/372030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likealocket/pseuds/likealocket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inara's eyebrows rose. "You were handling it?" Her arms crossed, and there was that smirk again. "Which one of us ended the job with out our clothes on, Mal?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always Were

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shirasade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shirasade/gifts).



> A post script to the episode Trash; takes place later the same night. Written for Shirasade in the 2006 With Love challenge. Thanks to dizzydame for the beta.

Today had been a good day, Mal thought as he poked around the kitchen. It was late enough that the other souls on Serenity were long since asleep.

There'd been some... complications, sure. Not a job went by without them these days. But psychotic, identity-switchin', unfaithful accidental-wives holding a gun to his head --three times, was it?-- and temporarily being relieved of his favorite pair of boots not withstanding, it had been the best day he'd had in more than awhile.

They'd made a lot of money today, and it would be nice to not have to fret over feedin' his crew and fuelin' his ship on a job-to-job basis for a good, long while once he sold their new prize.

Matter of fact, such a good day called for a little one-man celebration made up of that special tea Kaylee had found in that fancy shop on Whitefall, and maybe a few of those real chocolate biscuits Book had obtained through his mysterious Shepherding travels.

"So, it turns out I'm very skilled at pre-meditated crime," Mal looked up from the warming teapot to see Inara in a flowing red, well, it must have been a dressing gown, this time of the night, framed in the doorway.

Mal could see she hadn't expected him to be awake either. Inara hesitated, looking unsure at intruding, though he could tell she wanted to join him. They hadn't said many civil words to each other since their fight in her shuttle last night, and he saw this offering of peace for what it was.

"Some might call you a mastermind, even," Mal agreed lightly, and reached for a second teacup. An invitation for her company, they both knew. She stepped inside the room.

Inara smirked and helped herself to one of Book's biscuits, narrowly avoiding Mal's slap at her hand.

"You did come through on your part," Mal conceded, sliding Inara a steaming teacup across the counter. "As a last line of defense though, of course. I could have handled it on my own just fine." He took a sip of tea and gestured with a biscuit. "I was handling it."

Inara's eyebrows rose. "You were handling it?" Her arms crossed, and there was that smirk again. "Which one of us ended the job with out our clothes on, Mal?"

Mal nearly slipped into their usual rhythm, ready with a stinging comeback -- _How's that different from your everyday?_ \-- but bit it back instead. Much as it was old habit anymore, he didn't want to fight with her right now. Or ever, really, but he could hardly seem to stop himself. She did something to him, and his gut seemed to bypass his brain entirely before sending things out his mouth when she was around.

It had been a good day, and this with Inara was going well. He wouldn‘t fog it up again by being his own hardheaded self. Not tonight.

Sensing the slight shift in Mal's mood, Inara turned from the counter and made way to the table, where the Lassiter lay beside a small, plain crate, ready for packing and sale. She faced away from him, but he heard the taps and clicks that let him know she was handling the gun.

The silence drew out between them, hovering on the border between easy and uncomfortable. Just when he was sure she was either going to scold him or shoot him, she surprised him instead with a soft confession.

"As much as I'm sure I'll regret having told you this tomorrow," a small laugh, "today was kind of fun."

Mal could almost see the tiny smile curving her lips, though her back was to him and her head was bowed. He couldn't stop his own grin spreadin' if he'd tried.

"I should probably get some sleep. This life of crime does wear a person out," she turned around, and there was the smile he'd guessed on, only brighter and bigger than he'd predicted. "Goodnight, Mal."

And with that, she was gone.

Mal watched after her for a moment, a bit dazed, as he always seemed to be after too long in her company. The more he didn't understand her, the more he found he wanted to.

To clear his fuzzy mind, he lifted the gun, turning it over in his hands. At the movement, a small piece of parchment that had been tucked into a crevice fluttered down onto the tabletop. Curious, Mal unfolded it, at once recognizing Inara's curving, graceful script.

_Does this mean I'm now part of your merry band of thieves?_

"Always were, darlin'," Mal murmured, though only Serenity could hear him, and he knew she'd understood this truth long before he had himself.

He trailed a finger along words and glanced back at the doorway through which Inara had passed.

"Always will be."


End file.
